


Holy Shit

by ThistleCrown



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Cullen out of Thedas, Dragon Age - Freeform, F/M, Modern AU
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-07-11
Updated: 2018-09-18
Packaged: 2018-11-30 14:35:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 10,445
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11465625
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ThistleCrown/pseuds/ThistleCrown
Summary: Inspired by a prompt sent to Fereldenpeach (and written with her permission to steal said prompt):You've heard of the modern girl in Thedas trope, how about the other way around? Cullen turns up at your front door, he's not sure why his feet lead him there, but there he is. He'd woken up in this strange, terrifying place. No sword, no armor. What do you do?





	1. Farrada

I let out a groan in response to the loud knocking on my front door. I literally just sat down. My chamomile tea was still steaming in my hands. It’s not even cooled off enough for me to drink. And some asshole is knocking on my door at 1930 on a work night. Fuck.  _ I swear to god, if this is that creep Kent, I’m bashing his face in _ .

I glanced at the baseball bat leaning up against the boxes still littering my new living room.  _ Do I even want to open the door? If any of my coworkers found my address somehow, they better be understanding that I’m still unpacking. I’ve only been in this state for a week. _ Another knock interrupted my internal ranting. One single, quiet knock. Almost as if the owner of the offending hand doubted their decision the moment before the knuckles connected with the door.

“I’m coming,” I groaned as I lifted myself off my couch. I placed my tea on the worn coffee table before me and grumbled, much quieter: “Whoever this is better not fucking mind that I’m in pajamas. Fuck this.”

I opened the door and found myself facing a large chest covered in maroon fabric. Wool, maybe? I looked up and for a second my brain stops working. Curly blond hair, a strong jawline, brown eyes so light they’re almost gold and… I know that scar.

I knew I was staring at this poor man’s confused face and being completely unhelpful, but this can’t be real. I tried to rationalize this internally. Sure, I had a shot of whisky after work. Maybe 2. Or was it 3? Fuck, I always was such a lightweight, I really only needed one. But you can’t hallucinate just by being drunk, right? So then.

How the fuck is Cullen Rutherford standing in my doorway looking at me like a lost puppy?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I swear the other chapters are longer. This little bit here was my first attempt at creative writing in over 5 years. Bear with me, please. <3


	2. Cullen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Inspired by a prompt sent to Fereldenpeach (and written with her permission to steal said prompt):
> 
> You've heard of the modern girl in Thedas trope, how about the other way around? Cullen turns up at your front door, he's not sure why his feet lead him there, but there he is. He'd woken up in this strange, terrifying place. No sword, no armor. What do you do?

Cullen stared at the woman before him perplexed. He tried to keep the frown off his face as he felt his hair dripping down onto his forehead. She wasn’t familiar to him, but he thought he recognized the faintest glimmer of recognition in her eyes.

They stared at each other in a tense silence as Cullen tried to make sense of how he had ended up here, on the doorstep of a strange woman in an even stranger land. He had woken up in the woods and that in and of itself was normal enough. What was alarming was that he had not woken in his own clothes. Instead he had been covered by a deep, maroon, wool sweater with a softer material cushioning his skin from the itchy wool.

The sweater wasn’t too strange, but the fabric covering his legs was completely foreign to him. Dark blue with white threads weaving through it, slightly sturdy and stiff, like new leather. The trousers may have been strange, but they at least had deep pockets. He had found a set of boots laying beside him underneath a plain canvas. As sleep left him, he realized the canvas was the only thing keeping him relatively safe from the steady rain above. Or rather, the canvas kept his front dry. His back, which he had been laying on, had been thoroughly soaked by the wet ground, despite what felt like a fairly thick bedroll.

_ Great _ , Cullen had grumbled internally.  _ Why in Andraste’s name am I camped on the Storm Coast? _ He didn’t feel hungover, but he had no memory of how he came to be laying on the forest ground, seemingly alone in strange clothing. He sat up slowly reaching for the unfamiliar boots and with a jolt realized he was also missing his armor and sword.

Cullen’s fingers worked slowly at the cord lacing his boots as his mind raced. Perhaps he was still in the Fade and this was all a dream. But it would do him no good to remain on the damp ground pondering his situation, and so he rolled the slightly damp bedroll and took down the canvas, grimacing at the steady mist falling around him. A large pack had also been under the canvas, with straps hanging from it that conveniently tied around the girth of his bedroll. He opened the pack to find no answers - only two apples and some clothes similar to the ones he already wore. 

Just as Cullen finished fastening the canvas onto his pack and settled it across his shoulders, a roaring noise from above had alerted him. He dropped into a crouch and looked up searching for the source of the noise and spotted a strange shape floating through the clouds through the tree. At first he had thought it was a bird, but his confusion grew when he saw that the wings were not moving. The thing simply glided through the air, albeit quite loudly as it passed over his head.

He shook his head and began to walk. He didn’t know what drove him, but he felt as if he were being pulled along an unseen path. As he observed his surroundings however, he became steadily less sure that he was on the Storm Coast. The trees surrounding him were pines, and the ground certainly was far from flat, but none of the large grey stones that littered the coast appeared here and he never came close to falling off a perilously high cliff. Everything was simply vibrant and green.

Cullen wasn’t sure how long he had walked before he became aware of the sounds of the forest giving way to something… else. The trees thinned and gave way to what looked like a large path, but black. And hard. He was beginning to feel tired though, and had already finished one of the apples laying in his pack. And the invisible urge pulling him along was  _ persistent _ . Somewhere in the back of his mind he knew he should be shocked by all of the alien sights assaulting him as he walked on. 

He walked past buildings larger than castles, made of glass and reaching up into the skies as if they wished to touch the Maker himself. He walked past rapidly moving metal boxes. He walked past the lights and the people and past each enticing smell coming from brightly lit and oddly shaped buildings.

Until he found her.

At first he worried that whatever persistent urging was guiding him had misled him when no one answered his knock. Just as he had thought to turn back -  _ but where do I go _ \- the door had opened and there she stood, as unfamiliar as the rest of this strange place. 

Cullen found himself taking her in as her expression changed from frustration to that gleam of recognition and overall confusion. She was shorter than him, but tall for most women. She wore loose fitting garments - black trousers with a strange blue text on one leg -  _ what is a “Ravenclaw?” _ \- and an obviously well worn and faded gray shirt hanging slightly off one shoulder. There might have been text on it at one point but it was too faded to make out now.

The sleeves were pushed up to her elbows and Cullen noted with alarm the mark she bore on her left wrist. A tattoo, perhaps? But not the traditional tattoos of the Dalish, the dwarves, or even some human nobles. No, this was a small paw print, perhaps belonging to a cat, with swirling colors inside. Her pale skin made for a stark contrast of the mark, and her  _ hair. _ It couldn’t be natural, the way it glowed red. A deep red that reminded Cullen of fading embers. Finally he settled on her eyes - large and deep set and an appealing shade of gray-green. He let out an awkward cough at the eye contact and she blinked, as if waking from a trance.

She spoke first.

“Can I help you?”

“Ah… I am not sure, miss…?”

“Farrada,” she gave her name without a hint of hesitation.  He felt a smile crawl across his features, tugging his scar slightly.

“I am Cullen, and I’m afraid I don’t know why I’m here,” he surprised himself with his plain honesty and blushed. 

“Well, I did just make some tea,” Farrada said quietly. She stepped aside and opened the door a bit more. “And the way you look, you might just be seeking the nearest source of warmth.”

Farrada smiled at him warmly and he took a step back in surprise. “You would let a stranger in your home?”

She shrugged. “I know your name, you know mine. We are not strangers,” her smile grew wider as she stepped back, allowing him space to enter without invading hers. “And I can tell from here that you are soaking wet, Curly. You could use a towel and a hot cuppa.”

Cullen’s eyes widened at her use of Varric’s nickname for him before he remembered that he has been hiking in the rain all day. Of course his hair would be curly. It must be coincidence. 

“If you are sure I wouldn’t be imposing…” And he stepped past the threshold and into the warmth of Farrada’s home.


	3. Farrada

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Inspired by a prompt sent to Fereldenpeach (and written with her permission to steal said prompt):
> 
> You've heard of the modern girl in Thedas trope, how about the other way around? Cullen turns up at your front door, he's not sure why his feet lead him there, but there he is. He'd woken up in this strange, terrifying place. No sword, no armor. What do you do?

I had no idea how I was so smooth when Cullen-fucking-Rutherford showed up on my doorstep. But with him standing in front of me, inside of my very messy and only partially unpacked apartment, I didn’t know what to do. What the fuck do you do when a character from a video game shows up on your doorstep??

He didn’t seem to notice me staring as he took in my modest sized apartment. I had to wonder what is was he saw exactly in the boxes that seemed to capture his attention so thoroughly. Or maybe he was just avoiding eye contact with the strange woman whose home he had entered. Embarrassment suddenly washed over me at the thought of this military man looking at the mess of my living room. Did he think I was a slob?

“Ah, you’ll have to excuse the mess,” I coughed out awkwardly. His gaze snapped to mine as I broke the relative silence of my apartment. “I just moved up here and unpacking is going slow.”

A gentle smile broke out on Cullen’s face, lifting his scar with it. “Don’t worry about it, Farrada. It’s a nice change from the rain.”

“Right! The rain! You must be freezing - do you want a towel?”

Cullen nearly groaned in response. His hand flew up to the back of his neck and he averted his gaze from mine before speaking again. “Truth be told, I could really go for a bath.”

I grinned, even knowing that he wasn’t looking at my face. “I can do you one better,” I turned and walking towards the bathroom, assuming he would follow. “Cullen, let me introduce you to the wonder that is a shower.”

My bathroom, at least, was almost entirely unpacked. There were no boxes and the small linen closet held two of my matching, green towels with the third hanging on the towel rack near my bathtub. I had even washed my bathmat and placed it outside the shower shortly after I started unpacking. I could never stand getting out of a shower and onto a bare, tile floor.

Part of why I had picked this apartment was how spacious certain rooms had felt. The bathtub looked like it was nearly large enough to fit all 68 inches of me in, the counter was large enough to hold my daily toiletries and the makeup that would inevitably spread across it whenever I decided to put effort into my face. There was an actual medicine cabinet behind the mirror and a storage closet that held all my towels and the plastic drawers with my makeup collection.

But with Cullen Rutherford standing a foot away from me, the room felt claustrophobic. Stifling. I couldn’t breathe. All the confidence I had somehow mustered at first seeing Cullen was gone. I could feel my face heating as he stared at me, clearly confused.

“Right, so,” I pulled aside my shower curtain and yanked on the lever to start the water. “You can turn this one way or another to adjust the heat. Turn it all the way counter-clockwise to stop the water when you’re done,” I switched the water up to the shower head and turned just in time to see Cullen’s eyes widen in almost childlike wonder. I tried (and failed) to hide a smile at his expression.

“I haven’t used the towel on the wall yet so I guess you can use it. Unfortunately I don’t have any men’s body wash so you’ll just have to deal with smelling like vanilla and honey,” he made a face at that and I couldn’t stop the smirk that crept across my face. “I’ll leave you to your shower. I’ll just be across the hall if you need anything.”

I started to slide past Cullen to leave the rapidly steaming room, but he grabbed my arm and stopped me. My whole body froze as his touch and when I met his golden gaze I forgot how to breathe. He spoke just before the panic truly set it, quiet and earnest.

“Thank you. I don’t… I have no idea why I’m here. Or how. But you have shown me kindness. Thank you.”

I couldn’t speak. Couldn’t meet his gaze any longer. He was in my space -  _ touching me _ . I simply nodded, pulled my arm from his grasp and left, closing the door behind me.

I tried to make sense of the situation while I waited on him. Cullen is in my home. Cullen Rutherford is in my shower. Using my body wash. As I re-entered my living room my gaze fell upon the backpack he had brought in with him and set beside my door. The bed-roll attached to the bottom of the bag was dripping, but it was resting on tile and not carpet so I didn’t mind as much. I shook my head and turned toward my kitchen.

_ I need another drink. _

I poured more whiskey into my one shot glass and knocked it back, grimacing at the burning sensation running down my chest.  _ Definitely still awake _ . I wasn’t normally a big drinker, but between the stress of relocating to a different state and starting a new job, a fictional character showing up on my doorstep fully tangible and real seemed like a good excuse.

_ What next? _ I thought. The hissing sound filling my apartment indicated that Cullen was still enjoying his shower.  _ What the hell do I do with this lost puppy of a man? _

I suddenly remembered the words he had spoken in my bathroom. He was confused, he was lost, and he had no idea why he was here. Well, I certainly wasn’t going to let him get away. I moved towards my bedroom, slightly unsteady on my feet after the last shot. I really didn’t need that on top of the others. But Cullen was confused and lost and needed someone to help him. I grabbed an extra set of linens from my room and moved towards the guest room and the extra bed that was yet unmade.

Making up a bed while slightly more than tipsy was not an easy task but I somehow got it done. Navy blue sheets covered my extra queen-sized bed ( _ thank goodness I took it up here with me instead of just selling it back home _ ), two large pillows sported matching blue pillowcases, and I left the thick gray blanket at the end of the bed, not sure if he would want it or not.

Bed made, I moved back towards the living room and curled up on my couch, trying not to let my mind wander towards the naked man -  _ fictional man _ \- currently in my bathroom. Trying not to remember how warm I felt when he was in my space. Did he think I disliked him after how I shied away? Surely not - I did let him into my home after all.

The thoughts running through my mind distracted me from noticing when the hissing sound stopped, and I nearly jumped out of my skin when Cullen padded back into my living room, hair still dripping wet and covered in nothing but a towel -  _ my  _ towel -  wrapped around his waist.

_ Fuck. _

 


	4. Cullen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Inspired by a prompt sent to Fereldenpeach (and written with her permission to steal said prompt):
> 
> You've heard of the modern girl in Thedas trope, how about the other way around? Cullen turns up at your front door, he's not sure why his feet lead him there, but there he is. He'd woken up in this strange, terrifying place. No sword, no armor. What do you do?

Cullen turned towards the cascading and contained water, curious as to why Farrada had seemed to eager to show him what a “shower” was. A frown tugged at his lips as he began to remove the unfamiliar clothes he had woken up in so many hours ago. How in Andraste’s name is this any better than the rain?

His doubts vanished the moment he became familiar with the concept of water pressure. He barely contained a groan of relief at the almost-too-hot water pounded the back of his neck and shoulders - a spot he found to be frequently knotted in tension. It wasn’t quite enough to melt away the stress of finding himself in an unfamiliar land - he wasn’t sure if anything would be - but it was a start.

As Cullen reached for a bottle labeled “body wash” (Maker, she wasn’t kidding about smelling like vanilla), he replayed the short interaction he had had with Farrada in the bathroom. Why had she suddenly tensed at his touch? He chastised himself - he should have noticed she was uncomfortable before he had touched her in the first place. It was written clearly in her body language the moment he had entered the room after her. Her back had stiffened and she never quite met his eyes - not until he had seized her arm, trying to thank her.

Stupid, Cullen reprimanded even as he scrubbed away the sweat from the day’s trek. A woman kind enough to take a stranger into her home and you’ve gone and got her terrorized. Just shower, take your things and leave.

Unless… it wasn’t fear she felt, a small voice whispered inside his head. Perhaps it was disgust. You disgust her.

He shook his head against the intrusive thought. Surely it couldn’t be true? She had let him into her home. She had invited him to use her shower to clean himself, and in a method that he had to admit was far more enjoyable than bathing. But was fear really the better option?

Cullen began to rinse away the suds, eyeing the two additional bottles labeled “shampoo” and “conditioner” before deciding not to waste any more of Farrada’s belongings. Tilting his head back into the stream of the water, he ran his fingers through thick curls and shut his eyes tight, enjoying one last moment in the steady stream of heat before turning the handle Farrada had used earlier and stopping the stream of water.

As he pulled the curtain back and grabbed the pale green towel Farrada had pointed out, he froze in realization. The only clothes in the room were his dirty ones, folded neatly on the bathroom counter but dirty nonetheless. How could he have forgotten the rest of his clothes in that damned pack? 

Nothing for it now, he thought as he quickly toweled himself off. Just have to hope that she truly is across the hall and I can make it past her to my clothes. After a moment of consideration, Cullen decided to play it safe and pulled on the black smalls he had been wearing before wrapping the towel firmly around his hips. He took a steadying breath as he wrapped his fingers around the door handle, willing the blush that was creeping across his chest to subside.

Cullen peeked into the room across the hall where Farrada had said she would be but she wasn’t there. There was an open door at the end of the hall, but when Cullen glanced inside the room he saw only a second bed covered in blue sheets. No red headed stranger. He tried to fight the anxious knot in his stomach as he padded down the hall towards the living room where he knew he had left the pack with the rest of his clothes.

The knot got tighter as he noticed Farrada on the couch between him and his clothes. At first she didn’t notice him but then she looked up and practically jumped out of her skin. Cullen frowned and braced himself for the worst. The ladies at the Orlesian court had been terribly brazen and forward with him when he was fully clothed - what kind of attention would he get from the woman whose home he stood in when he was practically naked?

For a brief moment their eyes locked and for a moment Cullen was relieved at the complete lack of lust from Farrada’s face. But then she looked away, cheeks pink, eyes looking anywhere but at him, hands clutching each other tightly. She began to worry at her lower lip and with guilty pang Cullen realized she was nervous - possibly even frightened. He was making even more of a mess of things.

Just get your things and get out.

“I forgot my pack,” Cullen blurted out, unable to stand the silence suffocating the room. Farrada still wouldn’t look at him. “All my clothes are in there.”

“Ah,” Farrada’s voice was quiet and choked. “I left it by the door. I figured it was better to let it dry on the tile instead of my carpets.” 

Is her face getting darker? Cullen shook his head and quickly moved past her, opening his pack and snatching a clean set of clothes from it. He stood and turned to go back to the bathroom to change but Farrada interrupted him.

“I have a guest room at the end of the hall. I made up the bed for you. You can stay the night if you like…” 

Cullen stared in shock. In the space of an hour he had interrupted her night, been invited into her home, invaded her personal space, used her shower, her body wash, her damned towel, and clearly made her uncomfortable with his near-nudity. And she was offering for him to stay?

Either she is a saint or she’s going to murder me. Cullen contemplated the chances of the two options for a moment. The shower had done wonders for the mess of sore muscles throughout his body but he was still in a foreign world and exhausted. Who was he to reject a stranger’s kindness?

“If you’re sure?” 

“Do you have any other option?” Farrada finally looked at him as she made her sarcastic reply. The corner of her mouth curved up in a half smile and Cullen noticed that she was very pointedly looking at his face and not the rest of him. He wasn’t sure if he should feel grateful or slighted.

“I…. thank you, Farrada.” He nodded her way and began to head towards the guest bedroom she had mentioned to change. 

“Don’t mention it,” she said as she stood from the couch. She began to move towards curtained door as he approached the hall. “I’ll be out on the patio for a moment. I think I could use some air.”

“But the rain!” Cullen protested as she opened the door and a burst of cold air filled the room.

“I know,” Farrada grinned back at him. “It’s why I moved here.” And she stepped outside, leaving the door ajar behind her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Holy fuck, you guys! I wrote more!
> 
> And honestly there's even more after this but it was getting long and I don't want the length of my chapters to vary too much so this is what you all get for now. Thanks for bearing with me, guys. <3


	5. Cullen

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologize for this taking so long, but the chapter is over 3K words so there you go. Hope you all enjoy it! ♥

Cullen shook his head at the strange woman and turned back towards the hall. The guest room was cozy but not small. A large bed lay flat against the far wall with two pillows and a thick, gray blanket neatly folded on the end. Cullen momentarily wondered at the half-sphere attached to the ceiling that seemed to be the source of light filling the room before closing the door behind him and changing. The odd pants wouldn’t be comfortable for sleeping but he supposed he could remove them before crawling under the covers. For now however, he had some questions for Farrada and he had exposed enough of himself for the night. For much longer than that, really.

 

The living room felt even colder when Cullen returned and for a moment he considered turning back to grab the blanket from the guest room. But then Farrada returned and Cullen nearly felt his heart squeeze at the sight of her.

 

Her eyes were wide and a large grin was spread across her face. She looked happier than Cullen had seen her since he had crossed the threshold into her home. Her skin was flushed and drops of rain clung to her red hair, glowing like jewels. Her grin grew even wider when her eyes met his and Cullen felt himself involuntarily return the expression.

 

“I love the rain,” Farrada stated. She moved across the room to a fireplace concealed by a small stack of boxes, giving Cullen a wide berth as she passed him. She continued to speak as she shuffled boxes around to free up the space in front of the fireplace.

 

“I grew up in England and it rained all the time. Everything was so beautiful. I remember the sky usually being dark and the grass and the trees were green all year. Nothing ever died. And in the mornings fog would cling to the ground and I’d run around the playground and imagine I was running through the clouds…”

 

She trailed off and looked at him, embarrassment written plainly on her face. “I’m sorry. I tend to ramble when I’m nervous.”

 

Cullen smiled gently and moved to help Farrada clear more boxes, eager to have a fire warm the room and erase the hours he had spent in the rain. “Don’t be. I am not sure what ‘England’ is and I’m not one for the rain personally, but it sounds like you found it to be lovely.”

 

The smile was back on her face and she spoke again as she moved the last of the clutter in front of the fireplace. Cullen moved back as she opened the glass doors in front of the fireplace to let her light it. “England is another country across the ocean. Miles and miles from here. I moved from there to a desert. It hardly rained and the grass and trees were only really green for a few months of the year. You can imagine how dismayed I was when we first moved there.”

 

Cullen frowned, watching her as she spoke. She didn’t have a flint or matches and she wasn’t making a move to find them. Instead she kneeled down in front of the fireplace. Cullen saw her wrist flick and suddenly a small flame was in the fireplace, licking along the logs.

 

_ Mage. _

 

He didn’t think. In a heartbeat he had gripped her shoulder, ripped her around to face him, and seized her throat. He was inches from her, kneeling over her and pressing her back into the brick before the fireplace, and without Lyrium he wouldn’t be able to cancel out her spells, but he had to contain this new threat. His stomach clenched at the panic on her face and the tears in her eyes but he ignored it and  _ squeezed _ .

 

“Apostate. Why have you brought me here?” He growled and loosened his grip slightly to allow her to answer.

 

Stars exploded behind his eyes as Farrada’s knee connected solidly with his groin. Cullen fell back and curled up into himself, gritting his teeth and willing himself to resume control of the situation. But Farrada had scrambled out of his reach, coughing as tears streamed down her face.

 

“Well hey, at least this time I didn’t freeze when someone grabbed my throat,” her voice was rough and she let out a dry laugh. “I’m sorry about that, Cullen. You said you weren’t sure why you were here. I shouldn’t have assumed you’d know anything about 21st century technology.”

 

Cullen forced himself to straighten out and stood, glaring down at Farrada. She raised her fists warningly and a few tears continued to stream down her face but her voice was steady when she spoke.

 

“Magic isn’t real.”

 

Cullen snorted. “You are trying to make me lower my guard.”

 

“I mean it. Magic doesn’t exist here. Never has.” The flatness in Farrada’s voice caused Cullen to pause. 

 

“Explain the fire then,” Cullen said, gesturing towards the flames.

 

“There’s a dial next to the fireplace - see? That round thing to the right of the glass doors,” Farrada’s fists uncurled as she spoke and she started rubbing her throat. Maker, it was already bright red.

 

Cullen managed to tear his gaze from the vague shape of his hand print on her neck and noticed the round knob she had indicated. “What does that do?”

 

“That controls the fire. Turn it counter-clockwise and it’ll stop the flame.”

 

_ Oh maker, her voice _ , Cullen’s heart squeezed but he had to make sure she was telling the truth.  _ I did that to her _ . He kneeled down, making sure his back wasn’t turned to her, and turned the knob counter-clockwise as she instructed. The fire died. He turned the knob clockwise.

 

The flames roared back to life.

 

Cullen rocked back, startled. Farrada let out another dry chuckle.

 

“Welcome to the 21st century.”

 

“The what?”

 

Farrada frowned and moved towards the fire. She sat on the floor, close enough to feel some of the heat but out of Cullen’s reach. “You really don’t know where you are, do you?”

 

“I truly don’t.” Cullen ran his fingers through his hair and let out a frustrated sigh. “I am in over my head, I think.”

 

“Ok, um, let’s start simple. How did you get here?” Farrada’s voice was still raspy but it was already improving. That blasted red mark was still branded across her throat though.

 

_ I did that… _

 

“Cullen.”

 

“I’m so sorry,” he blurted out and felt his face flush. “You took me into your home and I attacked you. I should go.”

 

He stood to leave but Farrada seized his hand with both of hers as he moved past her. Cullen started - she hadn’t touched him at all and had, in fact, been attempting to avoid any proximity with him since that moment in the wash room he realized.

 

“Cullen,” she said again, and her voice was steady. She looked up at him with her emotions written plainly on her face and those  _ eyes _ .  _ Maker, I could lose myself in those eyes _ . “Stay, please. Let me help.”

 

Was that desperation in her voice?

 

“ _ Why? _ ” Cullen broke first, looking away from her face and down at her hands, still clasped around his. Her hands looked so small compared to his, and he noticed with curiosity what appeared to be a metal fox coiled around one of her fingers. 

 

“Because you’re here. Cullen Rutherford is in my apartment, lost and confused, and I just want to  _ help him _ .”

 

Cullen stiffened and pulled his hand from hers. “I never told you my last name.”

 

Farrada’s eyes went wide and her hands flew to cover her mouth. “Shit, you’re right.”

 

Cullen narrowed his eyes down at her. “Start talking.  _ Now. _ ”

 

“I still don’t know how you got here! I can’t explain,” Cullen started to move towards the door and Farrada stood. She reached down and yanked her right sleeve up harshly. “Look!”

 

Cullen couldn’t hide his shock as he glanced down at Farrada’s exposed arm. It was covered from shoulder to elbow in various markings, most of which Cullen couldn’t recognize. But there were three large symbols in a line down the side of her arm and those he knew.

 

The Warden Commander’s Symbol was etched on her skin starting at her shoulder. Underneath that lay the crest of the damned Champion of Kirkwall. And beneath that a black eye with sunrays behind it and a sword speared through it lay just above Farrada’s elbow. 

 

_ How in Andraste’s name does she have the bloody Inquisition’s Crest on her? _

 

Cullen reached out slowly to graze the line of familiar symbols down her arm. He ignored the way she tensed as his hand approached her - he needed to know what he saw was real. He grazed the symbols with the tips of fingers and vaguely felt scars beneath the lines of the images. 

 

“I don’t know how else to say this, Cullen, so I’ll just say it. You’re not real.”

 

Cullen blinked. He looked up from her arm to her face, trying to find the hint of a joke. So far he had noticed that Farrada seemed unable to hide her emotions - her face was like an open book. But her expression was serious.

 

“Explain how you have these, then.”

 

“They’re from a series of video games,” Farrada started. “Dragon Age.”

 

“Of what?”

 

Farrada made a noise of frustration and ran both hands through her hair, looking up to the ceiling as if trying to find guidance and keeping both hands at the back of her neck, fisted in her hair. “How the fuck do I explain this...” she trailed off, biting her lower lip while her gaze remained locked on the ceiling.

 

Cullen’s head spun, trying to make sense of the situation unfolding around him.  _ How can I not be real? _

 

“You’re Ferelden. You want tea? I’m making tea.”

 

“What?” Cullen felt his jaw drop in confusion. “You just told me that I don’t exist and your solution is  _ tea _ ?”

 

“Yes.” Farrada didn’t wait for an answer, she simply turned and walked towards the kitchen. Cullen remained where he was, still frozen in confusion as Farrada continued speaking from the other room.

 

“There’s this set of… interactive stories. The first is about the fifth blight and the Warden -” Cullen watched her through the door of the kitchen as she lifted a lever and water flowed from a spout into what resembled a kettle.  “I played that one through three times. I think my last play-through I was the human noble Cousland so I could make my character marry Alistair.”

 

“King Alistair  _ is _ married to Cousland, though,” Cullen interrupted, still confused. “Moria Cousland, now Therin.”

 

Farrada snorted and set the maybe-kettle on a round base. She flipped a switch at the base and moved on to finding two tea mugs. “Yeah, I was always bad at coming up with names. ‘Moria’ is from another set of stories. You alright with Chamomile?” 

 

“I would prefer mint, if it’s not too much trouble.”

 

Farrada nodded, riffling through an assortment of small, colorful boxes while she continued. 

 

“Dragon Age 2 focused on the Champion. You were in that one a lot. Not as much as Dragon Age: Inquisition though.”

 

Cullen was shocked. “My life… the Warden, the Champion, the Herald… It was all just a game to you?”

 

“Cullen, I told you. You’re not  _ real _ .”

 

He didn’t know what to do. Cullen crossed the threshold into the kitchen and grabbed Farrada’s hand and pushed it against his chest, forcing her to feel his beating heart. “If I’m not real, how am I here?” He was pleading for an explanation and she knew it.

 

Farrada’s face fell and she jerked her hand away, though Cullen offered little resistance. “I don’t know, Cullen. This doesn’t make any fucking sense. Imagine how you would feel if one of Varric’s characters showed up on your doorstep.”

 

It was his turn to laugh dryly. “I’d probably drag them down to the dwarf and demand an explanation.” 

 

There was a clicking sound and Farrada turned back to the kitchen. Cullen watched as she grabbed the strange object he was now sure was a kettle and poured steaming water into two small, red mugs. She worried at her bottom lip as she worked, seemingly oblivious to the fact that she was doing so. For a moment Cullen pictured placing his thumb on her chin to force her lip from between her teeth, but he shook his head and cleared the intrusive thought away.

 

“Do you want sugar? Or honey?” Farrada asked as she placed a tea bag into each mug.

 

“Neither, just the tea is fine.”

 

Farrada nodded distantly, staring at the steaming mugs and avoiding eye contact with Cullen once again. He coughed awkwardly and his hand flew to the back of his neck,a nervous habit he would normally scold himself for but this situation was hardly normal.

 

“So that’s it?”

 

“I don’t know what you want me to say, Cullen,” Farrada’s exasperation crept into her voice. Her arms were crossed over her chest and Cullen noticed her white-knuckle grip on one arm as she dug her nails into her own flesh. 

 

“In all honesty, I’m freaked out. A video game character is in my apartment. A fictional person is standing in my living room waiting for a cuppa tea. What the fuck am I supposed to say in this situation, Rutherford?” Her words came more rapidly as she spoke, the grip on her arm visibly tightened until Cullen was sure she would bruise herself, and her throat still bared the brand of his hand... 

 

He let out a long sigh. “I suppose Varric would say it best, so I can only quote him here,” Farrada looked up at him expectantly, pale green eyes meeting his soft, amber gaze. “Well, shit.”

 

She smiled shakily. “I’m sorry. I’m sure this day has been more shitty for you than me.”

 

Cullen shrugged. “I woke up in a strange world and my feet lead me here. You are the one that let a stranger into her home only to be attacked…” he trailed off, still unable to tear his eyes from Farrada’s neck.

 

“Yeah, well,” she busied herself with removing the tea bags and adding sugar to her own mug. “Luckily I have a large collection of scarves. Just… don’t touch my neck again, ok?”

 

Cullen winced at the memory of her knee connecting with his groin and nodded enthusiastically. “Consider it done.”

 

Farrada pressed a mug towards Cullen, avoiding eye contact with him once again. He could have sworn there was a slight blush coloring her cheeks as he took care not to let their fingers touch when he took the mug from her.  _ You’ve already put the poor girl through enough, Rutherford. Just drink your tea and leave her alone. _

 

She took her own mug from the counter and slid out the doorway to her kitchen past Cullen. He watched as she moved towards the sofa and tucked herself in the corner closest to the fire, pulling her knees close to her chest and wrapping both hands around the small red mug. It was then that Farrada noticed another tea mug sitting on a small table in front of the couch and she let out a laugh, small but still somehow musical. The sound brought a smile to his own face.

 

“I completely forgot that I already had tea,” Farrada explained as Cullen took up a spot on the ground near the fire. “It’ll be cold as hell now. Guess I could’ve just heated that up. How’s your tea? I added some ice, I hope that’s ok.”

 

Cullen took a sip from his mug and closed his eyes in pleasure as the cooling sensation of mint washed down his throat. It wasn’t enough to undo the stress caused by the day’s events but it felt nice nonetheless. 

 

“Maker’s breath, it’s wonderful. Thank you.” 

 

Farrada’s mouth quirked up into a smile before she concealed it behind her own mug. “Glad you like it.” she took a sip of her own tea and Cullen saw her relax visibly.

 

“I wish I could offer you a better explanation for… anything, really. But it’s fucking late and honestly I had a few shots of whisky before you came in. Someone gave it to me as a housewarming gift. Maybe tomorrow I can be more helpful.”

 

“Farrada, you opened your home to me. It isn’t your fault that you don’t know how I got here - I don’t expect anything more from you.”

 

She waved him off. “You said your feet lead you here, right?” He nodded. “Then I choose to believe you’re here for a reason. Tomorrow after work I’ll try to be of more use. For now, I’m sure you’ve noticed all the light bulbs keeping the place lit?”

 

“Light bulbs?”

 

She pointed to another half-dome attached to the ceiling, filling the room with light. “We don’t have magic here but we have electricity which may as well be magic to you. There’s a little switch on the wall in every room here that controls the lights. I think the one in your roo - the guest bedroom - is still on so you’re gonna wanna hit that before you go to sleep.” She took another sip and made a small noise, swallowing quickly. “Wait no - don’t hit it. I just mean flip it.”

 

Cullen chuckled and Farrada stuck her tongue out at him. The gesture reminded him of that elf Sera and he only laughed harder. “Flip the switch. Got it.”

 

She nodded softly and yawned into her tea mug. “Fuck. I’m sorry, Cullen, but it really is late. I need to get some fucking sleep. Are you going to be ok on your own?”

 

“I should be. Thank you again, Farrada.”

 

She nodded and uncurled before standing up and grabbing the second tea mug. Cullen watched as she shuffled into the kitchen and disappeared from his view. He turned his attention to the fire again, staring into the flames and thinking of home.

 

_ What will Cassandra do? And the Inquisitor? Without the Inquisition they need my help finding that damned Elf. At least the Templar refuge has some healers who can actually help the worst of the Lyrium addicts without me… Shit! Who’s going to take care of Fireball? _

 

He was pulled out of his thoughts by Farrada gently patting him on top of his head and made a small noise of astonishment. Another smirk crept across her face as his was colored by a blush, embarrassed at letting his guard down.

 

“If you need me, you know where I’ll be. Although I really don’t recommend waking me up - I’m not afraid to bite. When you finish your tea you can just leave the mug on the table there. Oh, and I’d appreciate it if you turned the fire off before you go to bed. Good night, Rutherford.” 

 

He watched as she walked down the hall and disappeared into her room, feet dragging on the floor as a testament to her exhaustion. Cullen drowned the rest of his tea and set his mug on the table as she had requested. He stared into the fire for a moment, head still reeling from the events of the day, before turning the dial to kill the flames and following Farrada’s example.

 

With his legs freed from those odd, blue trousers and soft fleece wrapped around his body, Cullen was asleep moments after his head touched the pillow.

 

_ Tomorrow. Tomorrow I will have answers for… whatever this is. _


	6. Farrada

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ok, it's been literally months, I'm sorry. I was stuck on this forever. And probably shouldn't have been writing this at work because if anyone ever actually pays attention to my activity well... I'm not gonna finish that thought. Here's over 3k words for anyone who's still reading this. <3

The screeching of my car-alarm ringtone only served to make me squeeze my eyes shut tighter and shove my head under my pillow. I immediately regretted touching my house warming whisky the previous night. My mouth was full of cotton and my head positively pulsed at the temples. But I couldn't call out of work - not so soon after starting a new job. A job I needed to keep if I wanted to continue living here.

“Fucking fuck,” I grumbled as I reached out of bed to hit snooze. I was never a morning person, but occasionally cursing at the general concept of waking made me feel better. 

For once though, I decided not to push the limits of how long I could stay in bed. A hangover could only be cured by greasy breakfast food and some form of potatoes and I knew I'd have to leave my place at least 15 minutes earlier than usual to swing by the McDonald's on my drive to work. 

I picked my phone up off the floor, sat up straight, and turned off both my main and backup alarms. Having those continue to go off would only make me more grumpy than I already was in the mornings. My shoulders and neck were already stiff - evidently I had slept in a weird position last night, so I did my best to stretch them out as I got out of bed and made my way across the hall to my bathroom.

I froze as soon as I flipped the light on. My shower curtain was pulled to the side, revealing the wall of tile surrounding my shower. I always pulled the curtain closed when I was done. Why was it not…

“Jesus fucking Christ, Cullen!”

The door to my guest room was suddenly yanked open and seconds later Cullen appeared in the doorway to my bathroom, eyes wide and hair a mess of curls.

“What happened? Is everything alright?”

I must have resembled a fish the way my mouth hung open as I stared. 

“Farrada?”

“You're real.”

“Yes?”

“I didn't dream you.”

Cullen relaxed visibly and chuckled at that. It was a rich, deep sound that positively made me shudder. “Does that happen often?”

“I - wait, no, but…” I suddenly became hyper aware that I wasn't wearing a bra and crossed my arms over my chest. But then I took another look at the man standing in front of me and noticed something that had at first escaped my sleep-addled mind. 

“Cullen? You, ah… you're not wearing any pants.” 

Cullen's expression turned again to one of shock as he looked down and realized I was right. He was clad only in a pair of black boxer briefs, and as hesitant as I was about the stranger in my home I suddenly wanted to run my hands over every inch of him. I settled for biting my lip, and a sudden pounding in my head reminded me of my hangover. 

Cullen blushed and his hand flew to the back of his neck as mine flew to cover my face, blocking out the light along with the tempting figure in front of me.

“Maker's Breath, I didn't realize, I just heard you shout and… Farrada?” I felt a pang in my chest at the concern in his voice.

“Just a hangover, I'll be fine,” I tried my best to sound convincing as I pressed the heels of my palms into my eyes. “I need to get ready for work, and you should probably put on some clothes.”

“Right… I'll get right to that,” he replied. 

As soon as I heard the door shut behind him I stepped back into the bathroom, turned on the cold water in my sink, and splashed it on my face. I always hated the sensation of water on my face but after seeing Cullen like…  _ that _ , I could practically feel my cheeks burning. Cullen being here only complicated my morning. I had to get myself ready for work and make sure he had something to eat - that he would be ok alone in a completely alien world until I could get back. I glanced at my reflection, grimacing at the dark circles around my eyes. I shouldn’t have stayed up so late. But then I look further down and notice the light bruising on my neck from Cullen’s fingerprints.

“Fuck…” I brushed my fingertips along the marks, glad for the lack of pain at the touch. The bruises were light, but against my pale skin they were still noticeable.

I rushed through my morning routine, brushing my teeth and throwing my hair into a loose bun at the base of my neck just to get it out of the way. I took the simplest course of action to make sure Cullen would be fed: I threw some bread into my toaster and let that go while I changed. I hadn’t been at my new office for a full week yet, so I was trying to keep my tattoos hidden while my coworkers warmed up to me. Some opaque tights concealed the marks on my legs that would have otherwise been visible from beneath my black pencil skirt and my favorite, red sweater covered my video game sleeve. I used my white scarf decorated in foxes to hide the bruises on my neck and decided to call it good enough.

Cullen was silent through all of this. I barely heard a scuffle from the guest room as I slipped on my rings and my opal necklace. As if he had been waiting on me, the door to his room opened soon after mine. He kept his eyes down, a blush still on his face that I would have enjoyed had I more time. Instead I rushed back into my kitchen and grabbed my peanut butter and honey mix to make him a sandwich. 

“I know you’re confused - I know this world is completely alien to you,” I called out to him as I spread the peanut butter over the freshly toasted bread, trying not to drool at the smell as it melted against the hot surface. “But I absolutely have to go to work, I’m sorry. I promise I’ll try to explain things tonight, and I’ll try to come back here on my lunch break to make sure you get food.”

“I am not a child,” Cullen responded, only slightly indignant. I hadn’t heard him approach the kitchen and nearly jumped when his voice sounded closer to me than I expected. “I am, in fact, capable of looking after myself.”

I sighed heavily. I knew this was nowhere near easy for him, but why the fuck did this have to happen on a work day? “In Thedas. You could look after yourself in Thedas,” I handed him the plate with his breakfast, and the hunger in his eyes betrayed him.

“Modern day earth is quite a bit different. Just… Let me get you caught up and you’ll be good to go. For now, I’m gonna worry. It’s what I do.” I pulled out my cell phone and checked the time - 7 minutes until I needed to be out the door.

“I’m sorry about the breakfast, I could do better if I had more time but I really need to go. Will you be ok?”

Cullen’s expression softened at my concern and he nodded. His brows furrowed as he noticed the scarf covering my neck. “I didn’t mean… are you alright?”

I moved the fabric enough that he could see the marks and flashed a smile. “This? This is nothing. I have worse than this from moving boxes.”

The crease in his brow remained. “When will you be back?”

I pointed to the display on my microwave, thankful I had already set up the clock. “I take lunch at 12 o’clock. I’ll be here a little after that and I’ll be done with work at 5. I normally get home by 5:20, ok?”  _ God, I hope he gets this whole ‘time’ concept. Thedas doesn’t have clocks, does it? _

Cullen simply nodded silently and bit into his peanut butter and honey sandwich. I felt a twist in my gut as I slipped on my flats and grabbed my purse.  _ What if he’s not here when I get back? _ I tried to ignore the thought and instead pointed out my bookshelf for him.

“Feel free to browse through those or something while I’m gone. The top three shelves are all completely fictional but the second shelf from the bottom is my collection of history books, if you can call it that. I’ll be back.”

Cullen smiled at me, his scar jerking up with his lips. “I’ll be here.”

And with my heart in my throat, I left.

25 minutes later I walked into my building with my purse slung over one shoulder, McDonald’s bag and coke in one hand with my badge in the other. I had already finished my hash brown and between the crispy potatoes and sips of coke I had consumed on the drive, I was feeling better. Not perfect, but better. Between my terrible habit of speeding and a stroke of luck on the morning traffic, I had ten minutes to enjoy the rest of my breakfast before I had to log onto the phones.

Ten minutes alone with my thoughts.

Last night was a haze to me. I remembered unpacking after work but my shoulders gave out on me from the effort I had exerted throughout the week and so I had decided to take a break and drink instead. after all, one of my best friends from back home had sent me off with a bottle of her favorite whiskey. I remembered calling her once I got tipsy, laughing at nothing and catching her up on everything until she told me I needed to sober up. I made a cup of tea and then…

Cullen. I rested my forehead in one hand as I continued eating my breakfast. 

_ Jesus Christ, Cullen is in my flat. What the actual fuck. _

I tried to concentrate, but between the whiskey I had drunk before he arrived and the faint fuzz still clouding my head as the caffeine kicked in, nothing was definite. Nothing but the ache around my throat and a memory…

Cullen, hair dripping wet, covered in nothing but a towel and in my living room. My face felt hot as the memory suddenly hit me. That and the sight of him in nothing but those boxers this morning, even if I had hidden my face from him, there was still that bulge, no doubt a result of the early morning. Even though I had only had a glance before covering my eyes, the image of Cullen clad in nothing but black boxer shorts seemed seared into my mind. God, and what a sight it was...

“Morning! You’re here early!” a voice in the breakroom broke me out of my thoughts and I felt my cheeks grow even warmer. I tried to force a smile on my face.

“Decided to get breakfast on the way over,” I replied. “I’m sorry, I’m bad with names. What was yours again?”

“Chrysanthemum, but everyone just calls me Chrys,” she poured herself a cup of coffee as she spoke. I repeated the name in my head as I stared at the back of her head. She was the only person in the office with hair that was such a pale blond. It fell just past her shoulder in half curl, half waves. It had been the first thing I noticed about her. The second had been her smile - friendly and warm. 

“Don’t feel bad, I only have one name to learn. You’ve got about 60.” She grabbed a cup of yogurt from the fridge and turned to me, breakfast in one hand and that reassuring smile shining bright. “You’ll get there. Happy Friday!”

I nodded and mumbled the sentiment in return before gathering my trash to deposit and finding my way to my cubicle.  The first half of my work day went by blessedly fast. I had less than a handful of phone calls and after the last few days, I was familiar enough with our database that I didn’t have to keep customers waiting while I found their records and their invoices. There was still a large stack of payments to process leftover from the sudden departure of whoever had held the job before me, but payments were my favorite part of the job.

Twelve o’clock snuck up on me and I barely had time to grab my purse and call out “going off site for lunch” to my boss before running down the stairs. He grunted an acknowledgement and that was good enough for me. I had a blonde (former) Templar to check up on.

I could feel my hands shaking as I approached my flat. I knew I should stop and take a moment to collect myself but I was on a time crunch and part of me frantically wondered if he was even still there. The building was still standing, so at least he hadn’t accidentally burned my new place down.  _ Jesus, I really should have tried to explain more of this shit to him before just leaving him alone. _

I tried to take a steadying breath as I slid my key into the lock and opened the door to my place, but I knew that with my heart racing and a million “what if’s” racing through my head, focusing on my damn breathing wouldn’t do a thing. In fact, in the past it had made my panic attacks worse. But as I opened the door to my flat I glanced across my living room to the open patio door and for a brief moment, I forgot how to breathe entirely.

Cullen stood on my balcony with his back to me, overlooking the tree-spotted city before him. Bellingham wasn’t a huge city by any means, but between the size and the technology that allowed us to move so much faster and reach so much higher, I could only imagine how Cullen felt staring at what must be an alien world to him. 

Even with his back to me, he was beautiful. Part of me wanted to roll my eyes as the thought crossed my mind -  _ how cliche _ \- but it was true. The pale green sweater he wore stretched wonderfully across his well muscled back. His hair - so strictly maintained throughout his scenes in Dragon Age: Inquisition - was an unruly mess of curls that still just begged me to run my fingers through it, even as I felt the need to maintain my space. Physical attraction aside, the man was still a stranger. I couldn’t even be sure exactly which version of Thedas he had come from. 

Cullen turned as he heard the door shut behind me. His hand flew to his neck and he started to move back inside. “I was starting to think it would never stop raining. I wanted to enjoy the sunshine.”

“No need to explain. What else are balconies for?” I set my bag and keys down in their usual spot and headed towards my kitchen as he came inside and closed the doors behind him. “Hungry? I’ve got leftovers I was planning on re-heating.”

Cullen nodded and I removed my leftover parmesan chicken from the fridge. I grabbed two plates as the food warmed up in my microwave and turned back to face him. He was standing in my living room, still looking uncomfortable. I couldn’t really blame him.

“How have you managed so far this morning? I know technology-wise we only really got to talk about the fire place and light switches last night.” Cullen watched with fascination as I pulled the now hot chicken from the microwave and plated each piece.

“Truth be told, without any soldiers to drill or recovering templars to look after, I went back to sleep,” Cullen admitted somewhat sheepishly. “I thought it might be best I touch as little as possible for fear of setting the apartment on fire.”

“Hey, there’s only one magic fire button in here,” I shot back with a smirk as I set his food on my coffee table, one of the few empty, solid surfaces in my apartment. Cullen settled onto my couch with his food and after a moment of hesitation, I chose to sit in my computer chair facing him with my plate on my lap. Maybe not a wonderful idea with a hot plate, but I didn’t want to sit on the couch next to him. I just hoped he didn't think I was being rude.

“So. You mentioned caring for recovering Templars, which answers part of the question I needed to ask you.”

Cullen quickly swallowed his mouthful before answering, “Which is?”

I hesitated, popping a bite of the re-heated chicken in my mouth as I stalled to collect my thoughts. “The game that I know you from… There are different outcomes depending on the choices the player makes and I need to know… What happened to you between Kinloch hold and Kirkwall?”

Cullen paused with his food halfway to his mouth, one brow raised in curiosity. “What do you mean?”

“I’m sorry, I know it’s personal and that’s not a time in your life you enjoy thinking about but,” I bit my cheek hard.  _ Just ask the question. You need to know _ . “It never happened in any of my games, but there’s a possible outcome where you sort of go crazy and kill some innocent mages.”

Cullen’s eyes grew wide in what I assumed was genuine shock. I was never able to tell when someone was lying, but then Cullen never seemed like a talented liar in the games. “Never! Those blood mages may have tortured and imprisoned me and yes, I regret some of my actions in the years after, but I never took the life of an innocent mage!”

Maybe it was just the situation and the emotionally weighted question, but his response did unfortunately nothing to untie the knot weighing heavily in the pit of my stomach. Before I could respond my phone began to ring, and my boss’s name showed on the screen. Cullen gave a quizzical look at the device in my hands. “Shit, just a second,” I muttered towards him before answering the call. 

“Hey, boss.”

“You didn’t leave anything at the office did you?”

“I don’t think so?” Anxiety fluttered in my chest for a moment. Surely I hadn’t done something to deserve being fired already?

“Good. Most of the staff took today off for the holiday weekend so we’re closing the office early today. Don’t come back in. See you Tuesday!”

The line went dead before I could respond. I let out a shaky breath as I placed my phone down on my kitchen counter and turned towards Cullen, who was staring at device in fascination. “Dorian once gave the inquisitor something like that… it let them communicate after the mage went home to Tevinter.”

I nodded absently, glad that the writers of Dragon Age had put something similar to phones in the game. That would make at least one thing a little easier to explain.

“That was my boss. They don’t need me back for the rest of the day so, I guess I’m yours.” I tried not to wince at the unintentional suggestion and prepared myself for a very long afternoon trying to explain the 21st century to a fantasy video game character.

  
  



End file.
